Hanging By A Moment
by Sailor Seraphim
Summary: Trowa has left Quatre. Quatre wants him back. But Trowa left for Quatre's own good... or did he? 3+4


Hanging By A Moment  
A Gundam Wing Songfic  
by:  
Sailor Seraphim  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of shounen ai goodness. I also do not own the song "Hanging By A Moment"... Lifehouse does. I'm just borrowing it on artistic license. I do, however, own the situations that occur in this fic.  
  
SPOILERS for Gundam Wing TV Series, Endless Waltz, and Episode Zero. Let's say it's two years after Mariemaia, making it around AC 199.  
  
WARNINGS for 3+4, shounen ai, and angst.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Tears before changing  
Starving for truth  
I'm closer to where I started  
I'm chasing after you  
  
  
  
Trowa stared at his reflection as he knotted his tie and smoothed down the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. His eyes wandered over to the small rectangle of white that sat propped against the mirror. He tore his emerald eyes away from it and focused an making sure his collar was laying straight. It had been almost a year since he had left. So, the big question was: what did Quatre want? What could have possibly made the Winner heir decide to take back him back into his life?   
  
Especially since Trowa had been the one to leave... with no explanation.  
  
Trowa wanted the truth. That was the reason he even considered going on this wild goose chase.   
  
  
  
I'm falling even more in love with you  
Letting go of all I've held on to  
I'm standing here until you make me move  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
Trowa sat in the driver's seat of his car, hands holding the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. The keys lay in the ignition, waiting. One turn. That was all he needed to do. One turn would start the engine and change his life forever. Trowa sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool hardness of the steering wheel. He turned his head towards the passenger side and stared at the small bit of white that sat innocuously on the seat. //I was the one who left,// Trowa said to himself. //So why does it feel like I'm chasing after Quatre? Why does the simple mention of him make my whole world stop?//  
  
  
  
Forgetting all I'm lacking  
Completely incomplete  
I'll take your invitation  
You take all of me  
  
  
  
It was madness.   
  
//What am I doing?// Trowa asked himself. //I left for a reason. I don't belong in Quatre's life. I'm not... I'm not what he needs. I'm just Nanashi. I have no name, no family, nothing that would make me right for Quatre.// Trowa closed his eyes, pressing his head harder against the steering wheel, his fingers tightening.   
  
//I'm completely not what Quatre needs in his life.//  
  
Trowa's right hand reached out blindly to the passenger's seat and snatched up the small envelope lying there. Emerald eyes flickered open. Trowa stared at the creamy envelope, reading his name written on it in a familiar hand through the dim light coming from the sky. His fingers pulled the envelope open, though he really did not need to read what was printed on the card. He had the words ingrained into his memory already.  
  
| Master Quatre Raberba Winner |  
| requests the company of your presence |  
| for his Eighteenth Birthday Party |  
| to be held at the Winner Estate |  
| March 18th |  
| 7 PM |  
| |  
| Please RSVP |  
  
  
  
I'm falling even more in love with you  
Letting go of all I've held on to  
I'm standing here until you make me move  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
"Why, Quatre?" Trowa asked the gilded invitation. "Why are you doing this to me?"  
  
His fingers skirted lightly over the handwritten message written at the bottom of the invitation. The blue ink was a startling contrast to the whiteness of the card, the scrolled black printing, and the gilded edges. Simple blue ink that happened to be the same exact shade of the blond's eyes.  
  
"You even used the pen I gave you for your last birthday," Trowa said to himself.  
  
| Please come, Trowa. |  
| ~ Quatre |  
  
  
  
I'm living for the only thing I know  
I'm running in a crash of where to go  
And I don't know what I'm diving into  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
Trowa sighed, carefully placing the invitation back into the envelope and placing it back into the passenger's seat. The russet-haired young man leaned back into his seat, staring at the stars twinkling brightly through the windshield.  
  
Well, what was he going to do now?  
  
He knew what this invitation was. Quatre was asking him to come. Not just to come to the party, but to come back into Quatre's life. Quatre wanted him back. Trowa warred with himself, measuring out the pros and cons of the situation as if he were analyzing a battle plan or an engineering schematic.  
  
His body moved before his mind could even finish deciding. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine growling to life. The Latin man put the car into gear and started to drive.  
  
  
  
There's nothing else to lose  
There's nothing else to fight  
There's nothing in the world  
That can change my mind  
  
  
  
Trowa had once entertained ideas of living with Quatre for the rest of his life. Peace had come and the two young men no longer had to fight for their lives anymore. And so, buoyed by the love they had for each other, they had entered the years after the long war together.  
  
And it worked. For a while.  
  
It was in these peaceful years that Trowa realized how great the differences between him and the blond were. Who was Trowa Barton? Trowa Barton was a dead man, and the green-eyed youth who had his name had no identity of his own. He was just Nanashi, an orphan. Once a Gundam pilot. Once a mercenary. Once a mechanic. Once a member of a circus. What could a clown ever offer Quatre?  
  
  
  
There is nothing else  
There is nothing else  
There is nothing else  
  
  
  
The war was over, yes, but Trowa realized he had nothing else. He had lived surrounded by fighting and war. He had grown up knowing how to assemble a gun almost before he could walk. When he could reach the controls, he had piloted mobile suits. He had learned his mechanics from working on weapons of war. All his knowledge and skills had come from being a soldier.  
  
How different he was from Quatre. Kind and gentle Quatre, raised in high-society and privilege. Quatre, who piloted a Gundam because he wanted to, not simply because he was ordered and trained to. Quatre, who spent his busy days keeping the multi-billion dollar company he had inherited running smoothly. Quatre, who spent his busy nights surrounded by affluent society, playing the subtle games of politics and power.  
  
There was nothing in a normal world that would have brought Trowa and Quatre together.  
  
And it hurt Trowa when he realized that it was only the war that had brought him and Quatre together. Trowa was not one to cry over spilled milk, he counted his happiness whenever it came into his life. But the despairing thought that he might have not even met Quatre if not for strange circumstances pulled at him constantly.  
  
It hurt so much.  
  
  
  
Tears before changing  
Starving for truth  
I'm closer to where I started  
I'm chasing after you  
  
  
  
And perhaps it was the secrecy as well.   
  
Quatre could not "come out" to the public. It would be a total scandal for the head of the largest corporation in space to be homosexual. His sisters had already been haranguing him about his need to get married so there would be ample time to produce heirs to carry the Winner name. They even did this in Trowa's presence, thinking he was only their little brother's best friend, not his lover. They argued incessantly of this girl or that girl not being good enough for Quatre, while the blond suffered quietly, shooting looks of apology to his lover.   
  
Even in public, at those high-class parties Quatre was practically forced to attend, the Winner heir was compelled to put on the mask of a playboy, flirting shamelessly with the daughters of the elite. Only when he tumbled into bed exhausted, could Quatre complain about the two lives he was forced to lead. And Trowa saw the toil a fast-paced lifestyle was having on the Arabian. He saw the dark circles that appeared beneath Quatre's eyes, the strained look that tightened around his mouth as he negotiated with business partners, the pained look that flickered across his face as he was introduced to yet another single daughter.  
  
Trowa knew his presence was making Quatre suffer.  
  
So he left.  
  
  
  
I'm falling even more in love with you  
Letting go of all I've held on to  
I'm standing here until you make me move  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
Trowa left so that Quatre could be free.   
  
He was not a stupid man. Trowa knew that there was some gaping hole in his logic, but it was the best answer he could come up with. So Trowa had slipped out of Quatre's life under the cover of night, hiding all records of his existance. It was painfully easy.  
  
Still... still... Trowa still lived with an aching hole in his heart. He was sorry for the deceit. He was sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. He was sorry that Quatre had to suffer because of him. And the Latin man had thought that his self-imposed exile would make everything better. He thought his new life would erase all his hurt and lonliness and make everything easier.   
  
But it didn't.  
  
Everytime he collapsed into his bed, tired and aching, Trowa was pitifully aware that the bed was cold and the other side of the bed was empty. He couldn't deny that he missed holding Quatre in his arms. He missed the blond's gentle smiles. He missed the way Quatre would mumble when he was reading.. missed the way Quatre poured his tea into a saucer to cool it... missed the way Quatre would crawl across the bed on his knees when he felt particularly amorous. Trowa missed the life he had with the Arabian. He wanted it back.  
  
It seemed like he had hardly started driving, Trowa had been so lost in his thoughts. But here he was, pulling into the long curved driveway that he remembered so well. The huge white mansion loomed in the darkness, light filtering out of every available opening. //Just like Quatre,// Trowa mused. //He lights up everything around him. He made me feel...//  
  
  
  
I'm living for the only thing I know  
I'm running in a crash of where to go  
And I don't know what I'm diving into  
Just hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
He was late. Trowa knew this because he could already hear the strains of music floating from the brightly lit house and the lines of cars parked around the Winner Estate. Trowa rang the doorbell, nervously tugging on his tie. When it opened, he was ready to present his invitation to the butler and be escorted into the ballroom. What he did not expect was for Quatre himself to open the door.  
  
Trowa stared.  
  
Quatre stared back, surprise and delight dancing across his handsome face.  
  
The stood facing each other for an impossibly long moment. Everything in the universe stopped as the former lovers stared at each other. Everything was hanging on what would happen next, and Trowa couldn't bring himself to do anything for fear of breaking everything he had risked by coming here.  
  
"Tr-Trowa..." Quatre stumbled out, his voice hitching over his ex-lover's name.   
  
Trowa managed to find his voice and pull it into some semblance of control. "Quatre. Happy birthday."  
  
"Th-thank you. Would... would you like to come in?" That unspoken question lingered in Quatre's marine eyes so strongly that Trowa could read it clearly. //Would you like to come in? Would you like to be part of my life again?//   
  
There was only one answer Trowa could give for that.  
  
He nodded and stepped across the threshold.  
  
  
  
Just hanging by a moment  
Hanging by a moment  
Hanging by a moment  
Hanging by a moment here with you  
  
  
  
  
-- Owari -- 


End file.
